


Old Sins...

by sabarte



Category: Star Wars: New Republic Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Republic, Star Wars: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabarte/pseuds/sabarte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the false dawn of the New Republic, the long shadows old sins cast threaten to catch up with an old woman still on the run. But she's by no means the strangest pilot-candidate to call Wedge Antilles' new experimental fighter squadron home. Ensemble cast Wraith Squadron AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Sins...

**Author's Note:**

> The Rebel Alliance attracted many men and women in the fight against the Empire. Scoundrals, smugglers, idealogues, many of dubious morality. In this shard of a universe, their recruits included an old woman of many talents- traitor, criminal, murderess, assassin. A woman who betrayed and was betrayed more times than she can remember, a failed Jedi, a woman the Alliance might execute themselves if they knew her past.
> 
> Right now she's calling herself Krill Vosa, which is not precisely her real name. She's a skilled pilot, and like many of the misfits, screw-ups, and child holostars of the Galaxy, she is right now presenting herself to Wedge Antilles as a candidate for his experimental squadron.
> 
> (This is an older fic that is frankly unlikely to be finished and is parked here for archiving purposes. It's vaguely linked in with my 'Guises' series, and is an alternate version of the first book that quasi-stars the Republic comics version of Asajj Ventress. That said, there's a whole lot in here for a Wraith Squadron fan to enjoy, and I hope you do!)

Wes Janson called up the next pilot candidate on his datapad. "This one's interesting. Real interesting. Lieutenant, formerly brevet Captain, Krill Vosa. One of Pash's - He recommended her to us."

"Vosa." Wedge frowned. "Wasn't she at Endor? Well, show her in"

The grey-eyed woman was taller than even the last pilot, Tyria Sarkin, had been. Taller than Wes, taller than Wedge himself. She was pale-skinned but not abnormally so, with black tattoos framing her face. A few inches out from her eyes on both sides of her face were two thick stripes with several small spirals coming off that extended to her hairline and beyond. Her grey hair only hinted at its former blond tone and was cropped fairly short. Wedge noted Endor, Bakura, and Thyferra among the tabs on her orange flightsuit. No dot for the Death Star run, of course. But he remembered her from there, vaguely. Wedge thought she had to be at least General Salm's age. The grey in her hair, and something about the look in her eyes. But she didn't move like an old woman. He returned her salute. Near-human, maybe?

"Lieutenant Vosa reporting, sir."

Wedge's brain clicked. Hadn't Pash mentioned her leading his group in his own absence? "Have a seat, Lieutenant."

Vosa sat in the modified ejection seat, looking down across the table at Wedge.

"If you're here, then you know I'm forming a new X-wing squadron. I'm curious as to why you're here, though. You have enough of a reputation and experience to command another A-wing unit of your own."

"If I took a permanent promotion it would get me into the inevitable track off flight duty. I was unofficially offered a promotion when I was brevet Captain temporarily leading Cracken's Flight Group during your Coruscant mission, but P--Captain Cracken coming back saved me from that." Vosa said. "It's increasingly clear to me that Starfighter Command wants me out of a cockpit one way or another. I don't have your pull - I can't just refuse a promotion without vaping my career. I'm not valuable enough to them. They'll find some excuse to pull me off duty, and I don't have the pull to fight it."

"Some people might call that paranoia, Vosa."

"Yes, sir."

Wedge watched her thoughtfully. "This is an experimental squadron, Lieutenant. There is a chance this won't work. If what you're telling me is accurate, the failure of this project might be the excuse they're looking for."

"I understand that, sir. Captain Cracken didn't seem too worried about that when he recommended this path to me."

Wedge suppressed a smile. _Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pash. Now what are you trying to pull?_ He didn't betray anything in his expression as he leaned over. "Like Rogue Squadron, this unit may be expected to act as commandos under certain circumstances. Do you think you can hold your own in that kind of environment?" A less blunt version of 'are you too old for this', but he needed to ask.

Vosa's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. "Yes, sir."

"Do you have any skills that would be relevant to infiltration or subversion?"

"I'm a crack shot with any form of laser weaponry. I can hold my own in hand to hand combat. I speak Quarren, Sullustan, and Huttese, among others. I'm a mediocre slicer and a decent mechanic. I'm also good at stealing ships."

Wedge raised his eyebrows, especially at the last bit. "I see. And these are current skills?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Well, welcome to our candidate group, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir." They exchanged salutes and she was gone.

"Interesting was right. What did she do at Endor?"

"Besides racking up a pretty impressive kill count? File says she was Green Two there, Crynyd's wingmate. Took out the Executor bridge shields. Claimed a good part of the kill, but the Alliance finally assigned it all to Crynyd for propaganda purposes as much as anything."

"I remember something like that. So what's she doing here?" Wedge asked.

"Pash says she's brilliant in an A-Wing, but loses her wingmates more than she should, and there's the perception in the Aces that she's getting them killed by being a gloryhound. Also, she took over Cracken's Flight Group when Pash went with you, and she, well, wasn't Pash. They took more losses when she was leading, which was noticed by a lot of people, including her superiors. She's not well liked - she's an old lady in a young man's world. Remember, the original Imp wing Pash defected with was all male, and even the replacements are mostly male and human like most Republic fighter groups. Vosa's better than all of them except Pash, and that grates on them. Long story short, the Aces would rather she accept this transfer."

"The gloryhound thing." Wedge tapped his fingers on the desk. "Perception or reality?"

"Pash doesn't commit one way or another." Wes said seriously.

Wedge glanced at Janson. "I think she may technically outrank you, which may be a problem. Think she'll accept a demotion to serve with us?"

"Well, she's here for the interview. Don't know if a demotion will be necessary."

"How old is she, anyway?"

"Her age isn't on file, but she's clearly at the point where if we knew her age the Republic would be perfectly justified in pulling her from active duty on that alone. "

"But she can still fly."

"Yeah."

Wedge sighed. "Won't be too long until we're there ourselves, Force willing. She's an A-Wing pilot, though. How is she in an X-wing?"

"Sim scores are decent. She brought her own A-wing in to the Alliance, so she doesn't have any combat experience with X-wings. She doesn't cross over as well as Captain Celchu does, but she's easily in the top ten of our candidates. Pash also says she characteristically underperforms in sims." Wes shrugged. "Owns her own ship. Our X-wings will be trickling in, so that's a plus."

"I'm not too keen on running a mixed unit here, Wes."

"We should be able to get an X-wing for her."

"If she makes the cut. I have sympathy, but if her age is an issue for commando operations I'll have to pull her. I'll call Tycho, see if he remembers anything helpful." Wedge made a few notes on his datapad, then looked up. "So who's next?"

***

'Engines' were hot. Krill Vosa stared at the manifestly fake canopy of the simulator and readied herself for the worst. She'd come early to see what she'd have to deal with. It wasn't the worst simulator she'd been in, but it wasn't the best by any means.

One of the other pilots, Mon Cal Jesmin Ackbar, had come early to make sure the flipper convertors she needed to fly were properly installed. Krill had just come to see how many problems she'd have to work through. The artificial eye made it worse. In the merely visual, the simulator was good enough. It was obviously built for humans, though. Vosa's right eye had been replaced long years back due to a near-crippling injury, and over the years she'd become adjusted to its wide-spectrum input. Dialing it down to "normal" spectrum was disorienting, and she couldn't afford to be disoriented. And that was only the first problem. She could feel the pilots in each of the simulator cockpits beside her, throwing her off. But the enemies the computer threw at her were not real, and so she didn't pick up on them.

It was a hard thing to be reminded how much she did rely on the Force every time she walked into the simulator, and also how much of an old woman she had become.

"Gold One, all green."

"Two, same." The Quarren.

"Three, all engines go, power at full, diagnostics green." Jesmin.

"Gold Four, set to go." Some human girl. Lucky human, who probably didn't have _any_ problem with the sim.

Wes Janson's voice crackled. "Launch in sixty. We have incoming spacecraft, eyeballs and squints, screening a capital ship. Engage and hold them ten klicks from base. Your job is to hold them off long enough to launch transports. You fail, we die. Training protocol one-seven-nine is in effect. Control out."

 _Hah. Hiding the bait and switch there, Lieutenant?_ Krill had long ago learned that ninety percent of Alliance sim runs were nothing like the briefing. The twist there would catch new trainees, though. Even some experienced ones. "Gold group, this is One. One-seven-nine means your wingman gets your points, be advised."

She could fly her A-wing in her sleep, but she had to think a moment to remember where an X-Wing's repulsorlift controls were. Not good. Still, she angled herself towards the tunnel and punched her engines, checking her shields as she emerged.

"Bombers!" Lasers streaked down at her, and she swerved violently to avoid. Even so, three bolts splashed her shield head-on when she was not ten meters away from the tunnel exit, and she hissed. _Second bait and switch._ If the bombers - she saw them on sensors now - had been aiming at the tunnels as was the rational thing to do, she wouldn't have been hit more than once. But they were 'warning shots' to serve as a heads up, and she'd swerved into them. Simulator logic, damn. Shields were at half, but she pulsed them full forward. As an afterthought, she remembered to..."Strike foils, everyone! After the bombers!"

Four had already downed one, she noted with admiration, and then another was taken out by a proton torpedo from Gold Two. At full X-wing speed (not bloody fast enough) she closed with a third, zapping it with lasers. It swerved, which was the objective. Meant it wasn't slagging the base. Two gave supporting fire, but Krill's R5 confirmed the inevitable kill was hers. Taking out two of the bombers so early had saved three minor launch tunnels, but the main transport tunnel was utterly slagged. "Three, Four, I want that last dupe _dead_ ".

 _Of course, if we'd vaped all four, Main Transport'd still be slag. - even though we didn't feel anything coming out. I hate sim logic. Aaaaand....three starfighter squadrons incoming._ She swerved to vector away from them. "Gold One to all starfighters, if you can launch do it now. Gold One to Control, come in."

Ten seconds, and two A-wings popped out of one tunnel in quick succession. Another two followed, too close together. Krill screamed "A-wings-break!" right before the last two smashed into each other and fireballed. Startled, Three broke off pursuit of the last bomber, but an already-launched proton torpedo from Gold Four took the dupe out on its second run. Not fast enough to save the remaining launch tubes, though.

Krill frowned. Nothing from Control. "All fighters, we are omega! Shields rear. Two, get me a hyperspace solution." Two was furthest ahead of the other three X-wings, and least likely to get shot. _We don't have enough time to outpace the Interceptors..._ "A-Wings, have you been in any contact with Control and do your laser cannons pivot backwards?"

"Acknowledged, One." The Quarren. At the same time, a male, "human" computer voice. "No contact sir. Yes, sir."

"A-wings, don't slow down, but get enough out of our vector so you have a clean shot. Interceptors can still catch us at this point. You'll need to plot your own jump."

"Yes sir." The A-Wings heeled off.

Krill watched the scanner. Indeed, one of the squadrons was coming after the escapees at an alarming speed while the other two kept on towards the base. Squints, sure enough. _Four after the A-Wings, eight after us. First shots should be coming about.....now._ Green lasers darted past her, and some were hitting her groups' shields. They needed to get out fast, not play dodging games with the enemy squadron. Green lasers splashed on her shields, and she watched them bleed strength. "Gold Two, get us that solution! You have lead." With some satisfaction she saw the A-wings had taken out one of the Interceptors chasing them before making their jump.

Her R5 beeped, acknowledging reciept of jump calculations. Her own shields nearly depleted, Krill drifted over so that Gold Four's would offer some protection. The voice of the Quarren came over her headset. "This is Gold Two. Hyperspace on my mark. Three, two...."

Suddenly, green light filled the cockpit, and the unpleasant starfighter death sequence started. Vosa swore and rode it out. The interceptors chasing the A-Wings had veered in and shot her down from an unexpected vector. So close! Any engine damage when the ship was accelerating for its jump was usually fatal, and the simulator had not made an exception for her. The cockpit finally cracked open, and Krill hoisted herself out.

"We made it!" Jesmin beamed. Krill eyed her before realizing the other three probably hadn't picked up on her being shot down. She glanced at the Quarren and saw the tension in his posture. His tentacles were curling and uncurling. Wes Janson was standing by a table.

"Good job for the most part, all." Janson said. "Especially with getting those A-Wings out. Significant bonus points there for everyone. Individually, well. Gold One, one kill, decent choice of replacement orders, and excellent orders to the A-Wings. Interesting move yielding lead to Two, but it looks like it was a good call. Pity you got yourself vaped before you could make your jump. Gold Two, one kill, good wingmate support and fast and accurate hyperspace calculations."

The Quarren nodded, He seemed to be trying to ignore Jesmin Ackbar, though her presence obviously offended him.

"Three, no kills and a small penalty for breaking at Gold One's order to the A-Wings. You'll need to work on that. Decent support, though, and you got yourself out alive and intact." While Jesmin looked grave, she accepted the criticism without comment.

"Four, two kills and the first was very nice work. Now, you all know the scoring deal, so this shouldn't surprise you. Base points were one thousand, and the exercise was scored out of two thousand with bonus points possible. One, thirteen hundred fifty. Two, sixteen hundred fifty. Three, fourteen hundred, Four, eleven hundred seventy-five ."

Krill hadn't come out too badly, and she didn't grudge Two her points. Well, not that much, anyway. Four argued, but Janson dismissed them all before she could complain too much. Jesmin was quiet as they walked out and didn't seem happy about any of it.

"You fly pretty well for an old woman." Four said, as they headed towards the moon's DownTime cantina.

Vosa smiled, showing her teeth. "Yes, so I've heard. What's your name, girl?"

"Falynn Sandskimmer. Uh, sir."

The Mon Cal piped up. "I'm Jesmin. I'm sorry to drag down your score, Falynn."

"Should have been second." Falynn was still clearly angry about that. "I'll make up the points later. Don't worry about it." She didn't sound any less annoyed, though.

Vosa glanced behind her, looking for the Quarren who had been her wingmate. His unease and resentment at Jesmin's presence had led to him leaving quietly instead of going to get drunk like the rest of them. She sighed. "We lost Gold Two. Anyone know his name?"

Jesmin's barbels twitched. "Triogor Sllus. He doesn't like me. He's very Old Quarren."

"Good flier." In the human-designed fighters of the Alliance, non-humans who excelled were rare. But Triogor was very good. Better than Jesmin, certainly.

"Better than some." There had been something like forty candidates when Krill had started, but in three days that had gone down to thirty. Since then it had been slower, maybe one or two a day instead of three or four. People were starting to make friendships. Krill had held off. Some of the pilots were hardly more than a quarter her age, and of the humans only the heavily mechanical Ton Phanan neared half. She knew a few names - Jesmin, Ton Phanan, Si Parrn, and a Sarrish named Eewke Taahz who'd disappeared yesterday. Piggy the Gamorrean was the subject of much gossip, but she hadn't seen him except in passing.

In the DownTime bar, Krill spotted Ton Phanan with the aforementioned Gamorrean and two other human males, along with a furry creature. One of the humans, scarred and dark-haired, brightened up as soon as he saw Falynn. "Hello, ladies! Come on, have a seat!"

Ton Phanan looked them over. "I'm sure it'll only take a few seconds for Face to horribly offend his second woman of the day..."

The third man elbowed the Phanan before introducing himself. "Kell Tainer." he said. "And you are?"

"Krill Vosa. This is Falynn Sandskimmer and Jesmin Ackbar."

"How did your exercise go, if I may ask?" Piggy said.

"Krill sniffed out the trick in the scoring, so we did OK. She got vaped, though the rest of us got out. Tricky scenario. I was surprised we got the A-wings out from the tunnel." Falynn said. "I got Jesmin's points, which hurts my score but I'm sure I'm still near the top." She smiled.

"I hate simulators. They're nothing like the real thing." Krill said.

Ton shrugged. "No, not really, but close enough for my taste. I've lived through fighters being shot out from under me, and I much prefer the way the simulator handles things." He grinned. "I've had... five missions. I keep getting shot to pieces."

"We have some experience, but maybe too little self-control." the furball said.

"This is Runt", Kell said. "Thief of twenty-three hundred points. I don't know if you've met him."

Jesmin made an odd noise. "That's a lot. I... well, Krill, anyway, got sixteen fifty and that was our highest. Were there twenty-three hundred points difference between your scores, or did you earn twenty-three hundred total?"

"Both." Runt said.

"...oh." Jesmin blinked. "I'm sorry, Kell. That must be horrible for you."

"I'll survive," Kell said. "I think I'll make the cut still. I don't think Wedge would cut me just on the basis of that, and he has to know even if Lieutenant Janson wants to screw me over."

"It wouldn't be fair of him, maybe. But you knew the rules, didn't you?"

" _I_ didn't." Kell snapped.

"How'd you get on the bad side of Lieutenant Janson, anyway?" the scarred man asked. "He doesn't seem like a bad sort of guy."

"I'd rather not say." Kell said. His manner was almost hostile.

"I wasn't expecting him to be so... uh... serious about training people." Phanan reflected. "I mean, you see those Rogue Squadron documentaries and you think he's just some sort of joker. Do you think that's something put on for the cameras, Face?"

Face shrugged. "I think his sense of humor is genuine, if you want an expert opinion. It just doesn't stop him from doing his job. And that's a good thing."

"I need to submerge for a bit", Jesmin said, standing. "I'm terribly dehydrated and it's either that or dump a glass of water over my head." She made a Calamari sound of amusement.

"So where are you from, Sandskimmer?" Phanan asked Falynn after Jesmin had left. He leaned over the table and smiled at her. "Somewhere sandy?"

"You're not nearly as funny as you think you are but, yeah..." Falynn leaned back in her seat and looked unhappy. "I'm from Tatooine. It's not important."

Kell looked interested. "Have you ever met Luke Skywalker?"

"That's _it_!" Falynn snapped, leaping to her feet and stalking off.

Face and Phanan looked at one another. "A minute or two. I was off." Phanan said, seeming bemused.

"That wasn't me, that was Kell." Face objected.

"Clearly he shouldn't ever ask women if they've met Luke Skywalker," Phanan observed.

"It's a horrible pick-up line anyway."

"It's more like the anti-pickup line." Phanan pondered, then nudged Kell. "Ask Lieutenant Vosa and see what happens."

Kell, seeming a little sloshed, happily obliged. "So, uh, Lieutanant Vosa, have you ever met Luke Skywalker?"

"Luke Skywalker?" Vosa frowned. "Can't say I have." She stood, a little amused. "I suppose that's my cue. Good evening, gentlemen."

As she walked away, she heard Phanan mutter "Women confuse me."

***

It was a week since training had started, and there were twenty-five candidates left. Twelve of them were now in a whole-squadron simulation. The cockpits closed, and twelve X-wings began to descend on a desolate volcano-world.

Krill was in the lead, with the flights of the squadron strung out behind her like beads on a string. They were chasing a lonely TIE interceptor, an anomaly. It wouldn't just be the interceptor though - it rarely was. She had once taken part in a ten hour endurance simulator run in which nothing interesting at all happened, but that was very much an anomaly in her experience. Usually they threw something at you.

Krill reached out with the Force, trying to locate her squadronmates in the various simulator rooms. Kerba, Tyria, Runt, Falynn, that was four...she counted seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve.

Twelve?

 _Hello, Commander Antilles_ , Krill thought to herself, and resolved to vape him. He wasn't in the fleeing interceptor, she thought. Which meant an ambush, or future fighter brawl, but any idiot could have anticipated that.

"Green squadron, this is Lead. I want everybody to be on alert. The Imps may have a secret base here, even if it's been marked as clear. Or an Impstar."

"Lead, Six. That fighter hasn't been modified with a hyperdrive. I'm suspicious about him being damaged just enough that we can't catch him" That was Tainer, the mechanic.

They flew on, long enough that the air of anticipation in the squadron began to fade. Except for one. Krill judged the timing of the ambush by that single focused mind. Right, here we go.

"Squadron, Lead --- Two and Three flights go high, One flight follow me" The interceptor was trying to terrain-follow. "Please pace us and cover as necessary." That volcanic canyon was it, and she looked for cover as she entered. The plume was the best bet, though it might be hard on the imaginary fighter. She waited a second for the first red blip to show up on the tac plot. "Incoming!" As locks pinged on her fighter, she smoothly slipped into the smoke and ash, leaving the wingpair behind her exposed to the hostile fire. She thought her wingmate instinctively followed, but she wasn't quite sure. "Break and evacuate, it's an ambush."

The tac channel lit up with combat chatter. "Three, Four, Eight and Ten gone, and I don't see Lead..."

"This is Two, I followed Lead into the ash, and..." Tyria fell silent, maybe dead, maybe trying to cope with incoming fire. The babble of the squadron reached a fevered pitch. In the Force, Antilles felt pleased, and was zeroing in on someone. The TIEs were now in full chase of the fleeing squadron.

Krill finished the tight spiral she'd pulled up the plume. Adjusting for the artificial g-forces was second nature to her, though for most pilots such a maneuver would be...ill-advised. She skimmed the edge of the plume, noted the direction of escape, and briefly transferred shield power to engines to chase the chasers. Overrunning engines was always a temporary tactic, as it was hell on the engines and left the ship relatively unprotected. She gunned down two TIEs before picking out Antilles (who was focusing on a hapless Face) by instinct. She felt his mild surprise as she went after his computerized wingmate, loosing two photon torpedoes at the simulation. He started to loop around to annihilate her, and a good quad burst disintegrated the wingmate.

She was lucky. As planned, she'd set the proximity fuses of the torpedoes to go off more distant than they normally would. Antilles picked the smartest vector, one that would not lead normally to two proton torpedoes reacquiring on him due to their vastly differing velocities. They didn't need to re-acquire, though, and though the first proximity burst only buffeted him, compounded with the damage from the second torpedo Antilles' fragile TIE fighter was rendered inoperable. In a blink of an eye, the crumpled TIE fighter began its slow swan-dive to the ground.

Now to get out of here herself. The ambushers had apparently been taking some direction from Antilles, because there was a brief moment of confusion that Krill exploited. She had maybe a one in two chance of getting out if she put all shield power to engines again and hoped nobody was a good shot. She entered one of her A-wing fast evasion patterns and raced for the sky.

It wasn't enough. A laser blast sheared off the top of her R2 unit, which meant no hyperdrive. And some of the rest of the eyeballs were looping back. "Squadron, this is Lead, I have no astromech. I'll hold some of them, get out of here."

"Acknowledged. This is Five, follow me." Piggy was one of the other two appointed flight leaders. Nine, Falynn, was dead. Only four X-Wings looked to be getting out, including Tainer. Not Face, though - Wedge had succeeded in picking him off.

She lasted only nine seconds with one additional kill.

***

There was an environment of competition among the pilot-candidates. While Myn Donos had already commanded a squadron, and seemed only at risk of being scrubbed for psych reasons, and Tainer, Loran, and even Ton Phanan were comfortable near the top with their high simulator scores, there were tensions between those who thought their places on the final squadron were at risk. Those tensions only seemed to spark into outright war in the mid rank of pilots, though.

Falynn Sandskimmer was the best scoring female pilot in the squadron, barely edging out Krill herself. That didn't seem to be enough for her, and she had obvious ambitions of being the best pilot period. And top among the non-humans in the candidate group was the Quarren Triogor Sllus. The only other candidate that was even distantly competitive for that was Jesmin Ackbar. To be honest, it wasn't that Triogor felt his position was threatened by Jesmin. He just hated her.

"You're a slave and the kinspawn of slaves," Triogor said in Quarren as Krill returned to the table. Krill had dragged Triogor to dinner, hoping the belligerent Quarren could learn to relax a bit and stop quarreling. Things had been going fairly well, but the situation had apparently degenerated in the time it had taken Krill to use the refresher.

"I don't need to take that from you," Jesmin said, barbels franticly waving. Jesmin Ackbar had wanted to talk to Face, but looked like she was regretting coming to this table. The others looked worried.

"It's true," Triogor tentacle-sneered lazily in his own tongue. "You ichorous idealists and your Loyalist Committee. Don't think people don't remember who backed Palpatine when he was a nobody. Tarkin just made you all stop pretending to yourselves you were free."

"Flight Officer Sllus, if you keep picking fights I will put you on report." Krill said in Basic. In Quarren she said. "You know as well as I it was a Quarren who dropped the shields on Dac."

"Is everything okay there?" Phanan asked cautiously.

"Just Sllus being horrible as usual," Jesmin said, giving him a cold sideways Calamari stare.

Sllus shrugged. "Technophobic homeworld idiots, Vosa. They don't represent anyone, especially not me. It wasn't the Deep Quarren that enslaved the shallowfolk, though. The shallowfolk enslaved themselves. If they had the will to be free, they could have turned the tide."

"And you think that would have been a good thing?" Vosa asked, and laughed. "Sllus, please go sulk elsewhere, and don't bother Miss Ackbar. That's an order."

"Sir" the Quarren said, but the look in his eyes said 'You know I'm right'. Vosa sighed. He wasn't or he mostly wasn't but she couldn't say that. She actually liked Sllus, but he had the strangest ideas about the past. _I suppose people teach their children what they want to remember._

***

On his desk were twelve flimsy cards. Wedge Antilles stared unhappily at them while Wes Janson lounged in a chair across from him.

"Well, let's start with having the six top scorers anchor a wingpair." Wedge said. The final cut for Gray Squadron had just been made.

"That'll be Donos, Tainer, Loran, Sandskimmer, Vosa, and Sllus, in that order." Wes said, sliding those names out.

"The easy way to do this would be to flip the bottom half and assign them that way. What'll that give us?"

"Myn and Tyria, Kell and Grinder, Face and Runt, Falynn and Piggy, Krill and Jesmin, and Triogor and Ton."

"It's a start." Wedge said. "We'll want to put Runt with Kell for obvious reasons, which will put Face with Grinder."

"Tainer with Runt, yes, but I don't think Face and Grinder are ideal." Wes said. He shuffled the cards a bit "I'd like to put Face with Ton Phanan."

Wedge grinned. "You would. Could work, though. Triogor and Grinder?"

"Problem with that is that I think Sllus needs someone closer to his skill level as a wing."

"With Phanan taken, that is a problem. We _can't_ put him with Jesmin."

"Right." Wes frowned. "I almost forgot about that."

"Piggy, I think."

"That works." Wes set those three wingpairs aside and looked at the other six names. "Myn and Tyria, Krill and Jesmin, Falynn and Grinder?"

"I don't want Jesmin with Krill. Vosa is too close to Sllus, again. Trade Jesmin and Tyria, and I think we're set."

"That's a relatively weak combination, Wedge. Vosa and Sarkin, I mean."

Wedge nodded. He moved the flimsies around again. "That's because they're going to be in my flight. I'm thinking Krill, Tyria, Falynn, and Grinder for One flight, Kell, Runt, Face, and Phanan for Two flight, and Myn, Jesmin, Triogor, and Piggy for Three flight. In combat, I'll be Leader and take One, you'll be Thirteen and take Three. Two is our command testing ground. I have my eye on Tainer and Loran.”

Wes tapped his fingers on the desk. "I can't help but notice that One flight is disproportionably weak, sir. I can see why you want Two to be strong, but you're shorting One a lot putting both Grinder and Tyria there. Could you switch Jesmin with Grinder? That would help a lot."

Wedge smiled. "I'm actually _trying_ not to segregate by sex here."

"Hey, I didn't even notice that," Wes grinned back. "Why are you hogging all the girls, anyway?"

"I almost have to give Krill a flight. Same with Myn. I outrank Vosa, and Myn'll be better with you anyway. I think Krill will be a good mentor for Tyria. She also might be able to deflate Falynn's ego issues. And I think it's as good a place to put Grinder as any."

"Falynn's scoring better than Vosa, though."

Wedge shrugged. "We'll see if that lasts outside of sims. She's not the main issue I'm worried about."

A groan. "Triogor and Miss Ackbar."

"Spot on. I need to see if Sllus can resolve his issues with Jesmin, so I'm putting them in the same flight. He's been surprisingly good so far, which is why he's still here. But the issues need to be resolved. I remember Ibitsam and Nrin. _Hopefully_ they can learn to work together. Obviously I'm delegating this problem to you, Wes."

"Great."

"Also the Tainer thing."

"And what are _you_ doing while I'm doing all this, O fearless leader?"

Wedge smiled and stood. "Well, right now I'm going go play sabacc while you get everything we just talked about approved with Starfighter Command. Yub-yub, lieutenant."

"Sometimes I hate you so much," Wes said in a gloomy tone. Grinning, he gathered the cards back up and got to work.

***

Eight Downtime comlinks went off at once. The rest of Folor was frankly quite boring and most off-duty pilots went there at least once or twice a day. Activating hers Krill listened to the impersonal chorus of identical messages around her, quite loud by this point. "...squadron briefing amphitheater...presence required." She shut the comlink off.

"They have a roster, eh?", the man across from her said. He was a Vecnite named Si Parrn, a former swoop racer. "Immediately. Better go, Krill. I'll see you...sometime." He waved her on with a bitter smile. His comlink had not been paged.

It had to hurt, especially since he was a better pilot than Tyria Sarkin, who apparently _had_ made the cut. Krill sighed, and couldn't think of anything to say. She just smiled at him and drifted out of the room.

The briefing amphitheater was big and white and much too large for the squadron. Really, it could seat five squadrons in a pinch. Krill picked a front-row seat and watched the others file in. No real surprises, except maybe Tyria.

Wedge Antilles and Wes Janson entered the amphitheater. Grinder Thri'ag slipped in behind them. He was hastily dressed and his fur had that just-washed look. Wedge waited for them all to be seated before starting.

"You all know why you're here," he said. "I'd like to congratulate you all into making the final cut for our new squadron. You're all aware, or should be, that I am forming a new squadron. But we're doing something a little new, here. Rogue Squadron, which as some of you may know is my other squadron..." small grins all around, "has often been called upon to perform intrusion tasks as well as their normal piloting duties. This squadron, by contrast, will be a full-fledged commando unit augmented by X-wings. All of you have secondary skills that will be called upon in ground missions. We are likely to be doing as much work on the ground as we are flying."

Wedge paced, hands behind his back. "At the moment we are designated Gray Squadron. You may put in a recommendation for a permanent name - if I like yours, you get three days of leave on scenic Commenor."

"My name is Commander Wedge Antilles, and I am designated Gray Leader. I will be commanding and flying with this squadron at least until we reach operational status and probably for some time beyond that. My executive officer is Lieutenant Wes Janson. He will also be flying with the squadron, and is a crack shot with hand weapons and fighter weaponry. If you would like coaching in that field, please feel free to speak to him."

"There are two other lieutenants in this squadron, who are your next ranking officers. Lieutenant Krill Vosa is an A-wing ace, formerly of Cracken's Flight Group. She knows a few relevant languages, and has some mechanical and computer aptitude. Lieutenant Myn Donos, formerly of Talon Squadron, is our sniper."

"The rest of you are of equal rank. For the purposes of this briefing I'll rank you by your scoring in the flight exercises. First among equals is Kell Tainer, mechanic and demolitions expert. He served with distinction among the commandos who helped take Borleias last year." Whispers at that - Phanan, Tyria, and Kell in the back.

"Garik Loran is our primary insertion expert. He knows several languages, is familiar with many human cultures and will have a large role in creating the various false identities we may be using."  
Face cleared his throat, interrupting. "Also m..." Wedge gave him a look and then ignored him, smirking.

"He's best known from such classics as _Star of the Immortal Empire_ and _Win or Die_ , and was winner of the COMPNOR Sub-Adult Group's ‘Most Patriotic Actor’ award two years running.” Loran's expression changed to something between embarrassment and amusement - he waved cheekily to the rest of the crowd.

Wedge continued. "Falynn Sandskimmer comes to us from Reeson Rim Squadron as a Y-wing ace. She knows a lot about ground vehicles, and will be in charge of acquisitions until we get our support staff up and running. Triogor Sllus brings us experience in aquatic guerilla actions, and underwater piloting. Ton Phanan is our medical officer..."

Laughter. Ton grinned. "Get shot down at your own peril..."

Wedge waited until the room died down. "Jesmin Ackbar is our communications expert. Voort saBinring is our hypernavigation and hand to hand combat specialist."

 _Voort sawhat?_ Vosa glanced back, not recognizing the name, before realizing it was "Piggy". _Hypernav and hand to hand? Interesting combination. Especially for a Gamorrean._

"Hohass Ekwash has great physical strength and can bring his varying personalities to bear on certain tasks. Eurrsk Thri'ag is our code-slicer." Krill still thought of them as the furballs, political correctness or no.

"Tyria Sarkin is another of our intrusion experts. A member of the Antarian Rangers from Toprawa, she's our wilderness survival expert."

 _Antarian Rangers?_ Krill looked thoughtfully at Tyria, who seemed to dislike the attention. Being singled out as the worst pilot in the squadron couldn't be pleasant, even though it hadn't been malicious.

"All right, wingmates and designations. As mentioned, I am Gray Leader, and will lead One Flight. Lieutenant Vosa will be Gray One, and Tyria will be her wingmate, Gray Two."

Krill smiled at Tyria as the woman looked down at her from the back row at her, and hoped the girl would be able to stay alive. And keep up.

"Falynn, Gray Three. Grinder, Gray Four." Neither looked thrilled. "Kell, you're Five, leading Two Flight. Runt is Six." Not really a surprise there. "Phanan, Seven. Face, Eight."

"Lieutenant Donos, you're Gray Nine. Jesmin, you're Ten. Triogor, Eleven, and Voort, Gray Twelve. Lieutenant Janson will lead Three Flight as Wraith Thirteen. Wes and I will tag along with a wing pair as necessary, or fly with each other as circumstances demand. Lieutenants Vosa and Donos may be called upon to lead One Flight and Three Flight as well, depending. Any questions? No? Good."

"You are all dismissed except Flight Officer Tainer, who will accompany me to check out the first four new X-wings that just came in. Tomorrow we'll start live exercises."

***

Four X-wings raced through the hanger tunnel into the vacuum surrounding Folor.

"One Flight, form up on me", Vosa said. For training, Antilles and Janson supervised instead of flew. Tyria was a little wobbly, but Falynn mirrored Krill's every move. Grinder was a little wide of where he strictly speaking should be, but they had the room. Janson could squawk all he wanted later.

High above them Wedge Antilles' well-decorated X-wing paced them, keeping station. There was another blip on sensors far to the south. Krill telegraphed the turn south well in advance for Tyria's benefit. No use in crashing their first time out. She sensed Falynn's mild contempt and annoyance and just smiled.

"Ladies and Grinder." Commander Antilles' voice broke over the comm. "This is a strafing run exercise. The sensor hit you are getting is not your target. That is Lieutenant Janson. Please do not shoot him, however much you may want to. XOs are difficult to replace. Janson is in our shuttle, towing the target, which will be three hundred meters short of him. Each wing pair will make one run. Arm at two klicks, fire at a klick and a half, immediately disengage and return to base."

"There is a com governor that is going into effect now. One and Two will be unable to speak to Three and Four, and vice versa. If you hear 'Abort', immediately break off your attack and await orders. Questions?"

"What kind of target is it?" Tyria asked. If Falynn and Grinder had any questions, Krill couldn't hear them. Decent question. Generally withheld information in an exercise was withheld information, but sometimes the commanders rewarded good questions.

Not this time though. "I'm sure you will discover that." Antilles said.

"No questions, sir," Krill murmured.

They had the first run, of course. Age before beauty, or something. Eventually a very vague target flickered into existence on sensors behind the _Narra_ \- a crumpled sail of some sort. Krill had to blink a little to resolve what it actually was - her memories were playing tricks on her. Hard target. "Set torpedo fuses to 8 meters," she said. Her R5 beeped, and Tyria acknowledged.

Just shy of two klicks. Torpedoes armed. "S-foils in attack position."

Then her heads-up display went dead. Krill frowned and gave it a good sharp whack - not enough to actually damage it, but maybe enough to motivate it to shape up. It stayed dead. _Oh, fun._ She didn't quite panic, unlike her wingmate.

"One!" Tyria said urgently. "I've lost all weapons. Everything!". Krill didn't answer for a moment as she reached out her senses, wanting to make the shot a good one.

"Two, I've lost targeting." She finally touched the wispy sail in the Force, mentally compared vectors, and at exactly one and a half klicks, loosed her torpedo and pulled up. Tyria followed. Krill began heading back, her mental attention on the torpedo. If it hit the Narra she'd never hear the end of it. Two hundred meters. Sixty. Twenty. Eight!

The torpedo exploded, destroying the sail utterly. Vosa grinned.

Antilles sounded mildly surprised as he commented from on high. "Ah. Nice shot, One. We'll talk later." Krill belatedly realized it wasn't _that_ kind of exercise.

"Two, did your targeting go out with your weapons?"

"Er...no sir." Tyria, a little sheepish.

"That would have been useful to know, though there wasn't that much time to share. But, well, mission accomplished." Below her, Falynn and Grinder raced towards the target, and Krill realized she could hear them again as Falynn began steadily cursing, loud enough that Grinder's snide offer of targeting data went unheeded. Her shot easily missed the new sail.

"Not so good, Three. Back to base so Two Group can have your X-wings. You are not to inform anyone who has not performed this exercise of its parameters. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." Vosa said, and heard the others chorus in.

"Gray Leader out."

***

If she’d thought Folor Base was dull, it was nothing compared to Folor itself. Gibbous Commenor hung in the sky and the view was great, but the moon was barren and airless. The gravity out on the surface was less than it was in Folor Base, deep beneath their feet now. Unfortunately, it was not low enough to counter the awkward weight of the pressure suits. There were four of them out for sniper practice in the hills around the base.. Climbing the hills was pretty good exercise, though they had a skimmer to take them from hill to hill.

Jesmin was still learning how to use a pressure suit, and Krill herself felt a little uncomfortable in one, but Donos seemed to be an old pro. Of course, as far as Krill had seen he didn't seem to do much but practice flying, practice sniping, and sleep.

She tried to stretch in the suit, testing her range of motion.

"If somebody was sniping back from over there, you'd make a great target, Vosa," Donos said over her suit's comm. He was back to looking through his sight when she glared at him, and snapped off six shots in quick succession.

"We only brought the one other rifle," she said. Tyria was using it, also lying down on the hillside squinting at the target.

"Shooting is only half of being a sniper. Sitting still before you shoot is just as important," Donos' voice held a hint of Corellian arrogance.

"Just think of us as simulating the chaos of actual combat." Jesmin said.

Myn's sigh could easily be heard over the comlink. "Let's go to the last hill," he said.

The last hill was another kilometer distant from the target range. As Tyria drove the skimmer, Myn kept sniping from it. He seemed to be doing pretty well, though she felt a feeling of annoyance off him at one miss due to Tyria swerving.

"It's all very nice to have you all out here to make sure I don't trip and break my neck," Donos said, "but I'd hate to have you hovering over me in combat."

"You do your job and we'll do ours." Tyria said. Her faceplate turned towards Vosa. "Want to try?"

Krill tried to shrug and more or less managed it. "Sure." She examined the rifle, and tried to find the target through the sight. Harder than it looked at this distance. A few white circles, shielded, that would turn red briefly on a successful hit. A number were mounted on droids that they'd turned on when they left. They were skittering around in a good imitation of a panicked crowd.

"Wait a few seconds for them to reset," Donos said, "and see how many you can hit as they dive for cover. Six shots will be scored."

She waited, and their motion became less frenzied and all the red shields turned white. Some came out from hiding in craters. She chose one near one end of the range and zoomed in on it.

 _How good am I at this, really?_

The scary thing was that she didn't know. Most other times she'd ended up doing something of the sort she would have been deeply tapped in, reading the fear of her targets, knowing where they were and which way they would jump. Could she do something like this cold?

Before she could start thinking herself out of it, she pulled the trigger. She hit the first, switched to one droid just starting to flee, barely grazed it, looked further to the left and missed the next one she went for. She took a half second to refocus and took out a stationary target, then a fleeing droid. Her last shot missed again and scorched the dust of the moon. There were numerous scorch marks already, but she suspected they were mostly Tyria's.

"Well, you could be worse," Donos said, waiting for the range to score the exercise. He showed her the datapad. He'd outscored her every time, even when he'd been shooting from the skimmer. Tyria had done a number of trials and even she had outscored Krill once. "Some people just aren't cut out for this sort of thing." His suit crinkled where he was shrugging. She laid down her rifle and squinted down range. _I'm getting old_ , she thought. It wasn't a welcome feeling.

***

The squadron mess was nearly full. Donos was absent, which wasn't unusual, and so was Runt, but otherwise most of the roster was there eating breakfast together.

Ton Phanan pushed his plate aside and looked over at Wedge. "So I'm curious. Commander, Lieutenants, who do the old-timers think of as the greatest fighter pilot in the galaxy?"

Janson and Antilles exchanged glances. "You're older than I am," Wedge said. "Ask yourself."

"I actually meant pilots of your generation."

Wedge sighed.

"It depends on what you mean by 'greatest pilot'", Wes said. "Pilots die. Good pilots die, often in situations they can't help. Some truly great pilots have more or less stopped flying." He stretched. "But for skill, sheer number of victories and ability to survive horrific odds, I'll go with the man with two Death Stars on his fighter any day of the week."

Wedge rolled his eyes a bit at that, but grinned.

"You're not really taking a historical perspective, Janson." Krill said, terribly amused.

"Oh?"

"There's tens of thousands of years of piloting history, Probably millions of scholars have examined the topic. And you pick the guy sitting next to you at breakfast."

Wes looked unrepentant. "I'm right."

"There's more to being a good pilot than just kills and staying alive," Wedge added. Was he looking at her? "There's also keeping your fellow pilots alive. Fighter piloting is very much a team effort, and bad teamwork will get individual overachievers killed. And frankly, bad luck will too. At the speeds of space combat, you can't see every shot coming. Flying close to capships is a nightmare, because a turbolaser will destroy an X-wing and there's nothing you can do about it."

"So what do you think, Lieutenant Vosa?" Phanan asked.

"I'm, ah, not a pilot of their generation," Krill murmured.

"Still," Phanan prodded. "I'd like your opinion."

Krill frowned. "Well, I suppose to young pilots, the only war that matters is the last one..."

"It's the only war lucky to have me in it," Wes grinned. "So it's clearly superior."

Krill smiled. “Still, all of this is going to be academic in a few years when the next crop of pilots take over. And a thousand years from now, Wedge might rate a footnote in some research paper that three people read, and they’ll have a new Hero With No Fear to crow about and forget."

Falynn was smirking.

"You have something to say, Sandskimmer?" Janson asked.

"Oh, no offense _sir_. Can't you hear yourselves? Krill’s moping about being obsolete and forgotten in the future. It's happening already. It’s happening to you."

Wes just stared blankly at her. Wedge slowly raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” he asked.

“Piloting is for the young. You were probably quite good way back when, and of course you’re an excellent trainer, but you and Wedge - your glory days are over.”

Other conversations around the table died down, but nobody seemed to want to interrupt Falynn and save her from sure humiliation. Whatever was coming was sure to be entertaining.

"Are they now." Wedge said, resting his face on one hand.

"Age matters. Look at Krill!" Falynn said. "She was commanding A-wings or something, but now she's old and struggling to keep up with us recruits. She might have been as good as me when she was younger. But she's not now, and she knows it. Reflexes get shot. And you're what, forty?"

"I'm twenty-eight, actually," Wedge said, sounding both amused and vaguely regretful. "Janson's twenty-six."

"You're not far from the grim fate of twenty-sixness yourself, Sandskimmer," Wes added.

"Well, Vosa must be sixty."

Everybody looked at Krill. "No comment."

Wedge rolled his eyes. "Vader was flying for around twenty years and at the end of it he would still have been able to vape you with ease."

Falynn snorted. "Crazy evil cyborgs don't count."

"Oh, _thanks_." Phanan muttered.

"Falynn, I believe this would be a good time to apologize to your elders and eat your..." Krill glanced over "...porridge. Else you might have to try and live up to your boasts." Her gray eyes were steady. "I don't recommend that course of action."

"That’s good advice." Wedge said. "But I don’t think she’s going to take it." He stood up. "Come along."

Falynn scowled "I’m not done, sir."

"Yes you are," Phanan said, swiping her tray in one smooth motion. “Since you didn’t take Krill’s advice, your porridge is now forfeit."

"Come on, Falynn." Wedge said. She stood reluctantly.

"Where are we going?"

Wedge’s eyes danced. "Flying. A little unofficial competition. If you’re up to it."

"Now, wait…" Falynn said, but Krill interrupted her.

"Commander Antilles."

"Yes, Lieutenant Vosa?"

"Might I handle this?"

Wedge considered that. _But you might lose_ , the look on his face said. Krill attempted to project complete self-assurance.

"Very well." he said.

"If you need Grandmama to step in, I'm fine with that." Falynn looked much more confident of victory than she had been prior.

"Sandskimmer, I vaped a Super Star Destroyer, Puncturing your ego is small change."

"Oh, please." Falynn said.

"X-wings. Live practice duel setup." Krill said.

Wedge smiled as Falynn agreed. "I think we can arrange that."

***

"Remember that we can't afford torpedoes. Lasers only. Make sure to turn on your practice interlocks. If I see anyone shoot at full power I will immediately rule a forfeit."

Krill hit the startup checklist for the X-wing at full speed. Her hunting focus wrapped around her as she channeled all of her urges to smack that insolent street girl down into efficient motion. Wedge had lent out two of the squadron's X-wings for this duel. Midway, she engaged the practice interlocks almost as an afterthought and kept going. A few of the necessary switches flipped themselves as she fished in her pocket for a threadlike lead and inserted it behind her right ear, tapping into the system. She needed to be the ship, and the ship needed to be her, and that meant a few...changes...to how it operated.

"Com check," Wedge transmitted. "Are you both ready to fly?"

"Ready," she said, and her voice was calm and murderous.

"Ready, old man," she heard.

Wedge Antilles' X-wing kicked up on repulsorlifts and arced out of the launch tube. Sandskimmer was right on his tail, and Vosa raced after. She grasped the Force, opening herself to its flow to a degree she didn't allow herself on base. She followed Wedge's directions to an orbit and smiled a private razor grin.

Head to head. Just the way it should be. She was the ship, she was the engines, and when Wedge Antilles said "Go.", she was moving before conscious thought caught up, throwing herself through space at her opponent in a wild headlong charge. She switched to quad bursts and reached out her senses. The world around her seemed to slow to a crawl and even an X-wing on max acceleration seemed slow. She could feel Falynn now, her confidence. She could feel the moment the girl started shooting, the path of the bolt, and even as the decision had been made she started a crazy roll out that she corrected sharply even as Falynn turned to follow, bleeding out the acceleration forces on her body with the Force into more awareness, more of the hunter's skill. She was within range, now, but the closer the better.

She fired a millisecond before the targeting brackets turned green, and bolts of red death screamed out into the night. The quad burst converged on a single point, and lanced Falynn's cockpit.

Sandskimmer's shields took the hit, of course, but Gray Three's red sensor reading turned white, for disabled. Krill herself hadn't been scratched.

"Nice shot, Vosa."

"Thank you, Commander Antilles." Krill couldn't keep a degree of satisfaction out of her voice.

Falynn was uncharacteristically silent. Both X-wings looped around, cut engines and waited. Falynn was taking things a little more seriously now. Vosa had expected profanity, and she wasn't getting it yet.

"Go."

Falynn raced forward, slowing to a speed more appropriate to dogfighting than an all-out head to head. Vosa gunned her own engines to three-quarters speed, watching for her shot. There might not be room to be clever, here. Falynn was not playing easy target this time, though her shots were themselves wildly off missing. Vosa cut her engines and then turned them full on as she tried to turn, and twisted at the edge of losing control as she ran against the built-in limitations of the craft. She sent a command to the X-wing and whipped around a harder turn than Falynn could ever make. She got a few shots onto Falynn's side profile before the girl pulled around to a point where she could shoot back.

Another head to head, and Krill took this one at full speed, pulling out all the stops. Even so, one lucky hit dinged her shields and she barely sensed one dual-fire burst that grazed her. She switched to dual fire herself, but it took five cycles for the enemy to blink white on her sensors.

She twisted out of the head to head path and started arcing back towards base.

Wraith Leader was silent for longer than Vosa expected. "Rather anticlimactic, really. I think we can declare a winner, now."

"One more run." Sandskimmer, grim.

"It doesn't matter." Krill said. She felt tired, now. Sandskimmer probably hadn't deserved what she'd handed out, and she hadn't needed some of the tricks she had used, but she had needed to win. Refusing a challenge was against her nature, and losing one even more so. _I used to be good enough in the air that I didn't have to be clever. Is that still true?_

A low voice from a long ago memory seemed to answer her. " _It never hurts to be smart..._ "

"Both of you take the X-wings in. Lieutenant Janson, Mr. Tainer, I know you're listening so I want you both to come down to our hangar to check the X-wings over. Sandskimmer, few pilots are good enough to grow old, but the young and stupid are least likely to be among those few. Don't be stupid. Gray Leader out."

***

After the two women had left, Wedge’s expression flipped from amused and smug to deadly serious. "You can’t do that in an X-wing," he said to Wes.

Wes blinked. "What do you mean?"

Wedge was grim. "You just got my sensor readings, but as I eyeballed it at least one of those turns was physically impossible. You can’t get an X-wing to do that safely. There are only about three ways I can think of to do that and all of them involve systems failure and should have been instantly fatal."

He rapped the side of the X-wing Krill had used. "Kell, I want you to go through the logs here and see if Vosa did anything that can explain what I saw."

Wes frowned. "I was impressed by her maneuverability but I didn’t think..."

"You can’t do that." Wedge said. "If this was a simulator run, I’d have immediately pulled her out for cheating. You’d have spotted it too if you were out here."

They waited a few minutes as Kell climbed into the cockpit and started running tests, They listened to the whistles as he queried the X-wing's astromech.

"Huh." Kell said. "She installed a program before starting – you really should get Grinder on this, sir. It was uninstalled before she got out."

"You know much more about X-wings than Grinder does. Do you have any idea about what this program does?"

Kell glanced up. "What it seems to be doing doesn’t make sense."

"Try me."

"This is insane, but I think on command it’ll screw with the inertial compensators for a few seconds. What the compensators are doing...um. They're telling the ship’s computer it’s compensating safely when nothing of the sort is going on - I think. There’s a couple of other things happening too. Some of the turn governors were taken out."

"You’re _joking_." Wes said.

Wedge just sounded appalled. "And someone put that idiot in charge of a fighter group?" His gaze flicked to Kell. "You didn’t hear that, Mr. Tainer."

"No sir." Kell said, still looking at the screen. "As far as I can tell, unless there’s some idiosyncrasy _I_ don’t know about with the hardware, she should have taken anywhere from thirty to five hundred gravities after compensation for a second or two on the turn I think you were talking about."

"Maybe survivable on the low end." Wes said.

Wedge shook his head. "Not vertical. Shouldn't be. What was her biodata like?"

Kell frowned and hunted for it. After a moment he said "Unrecorded."

"A bad practice. But she didn’t _look_ like she'd just…can we get some historic responses on her to high acceleration?"

"If she owns her own ship and she’s not self-recording, probably not. Just the previous training runs of ours and the sims." Janson shrugged unhappily.

"I remember her responses are a little odd and she keeps pushing the acceleration limitations on the simulator...but..." Wedge looked like he was getting a headache. "Wait. How’d she get the program onto the X-wing, anyway?"

"Cyborg." Wes said.

"I keep _forgetting_ that." Wedge sighed. "Her medical records are wholly inadequate. Actually, all our records of her are wholly inadequate. I’ll talk to Phanan and have at least the medical side remedied. Right." He squared his shoulders. "Tainer, you and Cubber need to take that X-wing _apart_ and make sure it’s to spec. Then run some unmanned tests to see how that program works and if it's some sort of crazy functionality exploit we’ve never seen before. Afterwards, have any damage or even possible damage repaired. Wes, find some reference biodata on her if you can, and run that program past Grinder to see if he can tell where it came from and what exactly it does. You are not, of course, to talk of this to anyone. After you’re both done, compare notes and report to me in a few days."

The muscles in Kell’s back tensed, but he just gave an unhappy "Yes, sir." that Wes echoed.

***

"Commander Antilles wasn't kidding about your medical records." Phanan said, looking at her full scan. "If I'm going to cut you open, I need to know what parts of you are real."

Krill shrugged. "I've never needed medical attention in the Alliance. When I joined I dodged the screening" _With some difficulty_ , she didn't add. "Over the past four or so years it's just never come up."

"And nothing from before, either."

"Ton, I was wanted - very badly wanted - by the Empire for a long time. Anyone known to have assisted me would have been killed. I had a regular physician who died of old age and another doctor who _was_ shot for working on me. And medical records can be weapons. They probably had some old ones, but I didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to...slice my implants or something."

"You're a mess, Vosa."

"I know."

"I didn't realize how much of _you_ was metal." A sudden horrible thought seemed to strike him. "You're not allergic to bacta too, are you?"

Krill shook her head. "Pretty much all of my replacements were due to massive trauma."

He looked relieved. "Always fun. When did you get those vertebrae done? Those are top-quality parts by the way. Old model."

Krill sighed. " _I'm_ an old model, Ton. That was actually the first time I went under the knife."

"You're lucky there wasn't any spinal cord damage," Phanan said.

"Wasn't really luck."

"What'd you do, get on the wrong side of Darth Vader?"

Krill laughed.

"That's a gorgeous prosthetic on the eye, too. Even I didn't catch it until I ran the scan. I don't know the model. Where'd you get it?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Woke up and there it was. Was missing a kidney, too."

"That sounds like an interesting story."

Krill smiled. "It's not something you need to know."

"I'm a better surgeon when my curiosity is satisfied. Otherwise I sulk and my scalpel tends to slip."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Why do you have a power source down there?" He tapped the synthflesh on her thigh.

"Backup." Krill said. "Most of it is powered by bioenergy, especially the thigh since it's just a very partial replacement. But having the leg fail in the middle of a fight - which has happened to me - is not fun."

"I can't imagine it would be. Facing ion cannons terrifies me. That's the problem with being a doctor. You know exactly what can go wrong."

He shook his head and touched her face. She tensed a little as he examined where his scan had picked up a subdermal seam.

"You've also been professionally chopped at least twice. Am I correct in assuming that's not your real face?"

"I had a lot of reconstruction work that needed to be done."

"I see." There was a wicked gleam in Phanan's real eye as its gaze drifted downwards. "How about those?"

" _Ton!_ " She gave him a look.

He gave her a grin in return. "Just curious."

***

She’d been ordered to report to Commander Antilles’ office at once.

"We had to put up a few hundred credits for maintenance on that X-wing, Vosa," Wedge said as she walked in the door. "The cost could have been much higher with what you were doing. Sit down."

Vosa sat carefully in the ejector seat in front of his desk. Wedge didn’t have a little lever under his desk to send it rocketing off through the ceiling, but he felt like he wanted one. His expression was calm, but she wasn’t fooled an instant.

Wedge looked at her a moment and sighed. "I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but an X-wing is not an A-wing. It is not meant for high speed pursuit or some of the things you’ve been pulling, out there and in sims. Particularly overloading the engines, which you’ve been doing rather too often. I know you modified the inertial compensator program on one of our X-wings three days ago. I’m not sure what you were trying to accomplish besides getting yourself killed in the messiest way possible. Kell Tainer says the program is not only unsafe, it is utterly unsafe and by his tests you should have been _dead_ on at least one of those braking turns you did against Falynn. Apparently the program you were using seems to originate from your own A-wing."

"Aside the fact that what you did is so astonishingly imbecilic in an experienced pilot that I don’t even have words for it, there was some minor damage to the compensator because the compensator design in an X-wing is not the same. If this damage was allowed to continue it could have led to the death of one of my pilots."

"I’m not going to restrict the use of your own ship, though I am _suggesting_ that you have a mechanic examine your inertial compensator. However, the X-wings you’re using belong to the squadron, and you are responsible to me for their use."

He looked her dead in the eye. "Therefore. You are forbidden from using our X-wings except for exercises assigned by me. You are forbidden from altering the safety features on any New Republic ship that is assigned to you in any way, and you are forbidden from running the engines past their design tolerance. I am deadly serious about this and if you violate my orders I will expel you from my squadron. You will not be permanently assigned an X-wing until I am satisfied that you have earned the privilege. Do I make myself clear."

"Yes, sir." Vosa said. There wasn’t much else to say.

***

It was a quiet kind of trouble Krill was in.

The second batch of X-wings came in for a total of eight, and the first four were permanently assigned. Wedge and Wes already had ships, of course, as did Lieutenant Donos and Face Loran. Grinder and Jesmin received their own X-wings so that their specialized equipment could be installed. Kell and Tyria also got permanent assignments. The other four snubfighters were used by the six remaining pilots on rotation. With the ability to put two flights of the squadron in the air at once, Commander Antilles did just that, switching to flight-on-flight contests.

Krill tried to quickly accustom herself to having a different range of reaction, but during a shoot-out with Two Flight found herself instinctually trying to do a spin turn the craft wouldn't allow her to do. She nearly lost control and ended up being depressingly easy prey for Tainer.

She did better against Three flight, though she was the last woman standing, and one of her strike foils would have been chewed up if it had been a real fight. Donos was not a hard man to predict - he focused down on his target strongly enough that even at starfighter distances it was easy to pick up. But he didn't give up situational awareness when he did so.

Because of the shortage of starfighters, it was always necessary to leave one flight of the three out of such exercises, though, and when it came time to do a hypernavigation exercise it was One Flight's turn to be grounded. Krill amused herself by sparring with Tyria, who she had discovered did have something of the Force about her. Grinder had been roped into refereeing. While not exactly a warrior himself, he was an adequate judge. He also wasn't, well, _as_ interested as the human men in the squadron would be.

She was easy on Tyria. The girl was desperate to improve her skills to the point where she felt she would deserve to be in the squadron, and worked obsessively towards that goal, but she just wasn't that good. At least not by Krill's standards. That didn't mean she couldn't be good, of course. Krill tried to teach her what she knew and be a difficult but not unbeatable opponent as necessary. And sometimes, even though it was utterly against her nature, she even let the girl win.

Now was not such a time. As she cheerfully pinned Tyria to the floor, she heard Grinder's comlink chime.

"Ow." Tyria said. Krill flopped onto her own back on the mat, willing to rest for a bit. Grinder's body language was getting very interesting as he popped an earbud in his ear.

"Ah yes." That ear twitched. "Instantly. What do you need? You will, incidentally, owe me for this..." Grinder typed swiftly into his datapad before frowning. "Oh, I see. No charge, then. Yes, Commander." A pause. "Is that all? What, no naked pictures of senators' daughters this time?" He was grinning now, toothily. "Merely a jest. I will report when I have the information."

"What's up?"

"Kell wants me to hack Commenor," Grinder said, claws clicking on his datapad.

Krill blinked.

"And Leader has authorized," the Bothan added with satisfaction. "There may be Imperial activity in the system." He peered at the datapad, interpreting rapidly scrolling data.

"Imperials?" Tyria asked, a look of dismay on her face. "I thought this was a neutral system?"

"Which means they do business with both sides as convenient. The question is, do they know the base is here..." Krill said.

"That's at least a _Victory_ -class-sized docking berth right there..." Grinder muttered under his breath.

Krill frowned. A _Victory_ -class Star Destroyer would be enough to flatten Folor Base and its three trainee squadrons. "Ask Wedge if we should get ready to evacuate."

Grinder shrugged and ignored her, engrossed in his task. Krill sighed and paged Falynn. "Sandskimmer, to the exercise room." She clicked her comlink off and shook her head. "I need to coordinate the Grays on base if we do."

"Wraiths," Tyria corrected. Commander Antilles had just picked the squadron's permanent name, and Tyria had won the three-day pass to Commenor. She had been planning to take it tomorrow.

Grinder typed in his conclusions and sent them off to the X-wings in space. As Falynn slipped in the door, he said. "Impstar. Yup, we're evacuating."

"I had better get that leave later," Tyria muttered.

"Right," Krill said. She looked at Grinder. "You and Tyria get to your X-wings. You'll have to fly with each other."

Falynn blinked. "Evacuating? Is there a fight?"

"Maybe." Krill says.

"I should take Tyria's X-wing," Falynn said immediately. "Then we'd have an actual wingpair."

Krill looked at Tyria. Really, even though she hated to admit it, Falynn was right. Sending Tyria out there with just Grinder was probably a bad idea. But she wasn't about to evict Tyria from her X-wing without her consent. "Your opinion on that, Sarkin?"

Tyria sighed. "Falynn's better," she admitted grudgingly.

Krill nodded to Falynn. "Do it. You two get up to the launch tubes. Tyria, you need to...hm. Talk to Cubber. You can pilot the _Narra_ out, maybe get some of our gear out too..."

The emergency alarm screamed once, twice, three times, and the voice of General Crespin came on, ordering all pilots to alert status and all base personnel to evacuate the moon.

Krill looked at her flight. "You know what you need to do," she said. "Let's do this."

***

"You, Vosa, over here!"

Krill sighed and heeled obediently. The base was emptying swiftly - one thing the former Rebels did and did well was evacuate secret bases. One of the captains who trained the other squadrons on base had spotted her. She was in A-wing country, where her own ship was stored.

"General Crespin wants to see you," the young captain said.

The base was keeping com silence now. There was a decoy base on the other end of the planet, and hopefully it would keep decoying the Star Destroyer long enough for the transports to launch.

"I sent you an update on what I was doing, General," she said as she was ushered into his office. "The last two of our X-wings have launched and are terrain-following to meet up with the rest of their squadron, and I was about to launch myself..."

"Hold that thought," General Crespin said, barely glancing at her. He was a middle-aged man, ex-Imperial with a half-mechanical face and little sense of humor. His office was being removed from around him as he spoke to Krill. He hit a button on the built-in comlink on the wall, and waited, probably until a tight-beam link through one of the retransmitters was established to the Wraiths. "All squadrons, all ships, we read multiple bombing runs and strikes on target. All ready transports, Gold Squadron, launch. May the Force be with you."

He sighed, rubbing his forehead and turned to Vosa. "What were you planning to do after you launched?"

She blinked. "Join my squadron, sir?"

"Ah," General Crespin said. "With an A-wing? And no wingmate?"

She shrugged. No wingmate was less to worry about, at least when your wingmate was Tyria.

"That's stupid. Consider yourself temporarily reassigned to Blue Squadron."

She felt the rumble of a transport launch. "Come with me," he said, and left the now-empty office.

She followed him as he hurried to one of the A-wing hangers, the one where her A-wing and his were stored. The evacuation had proceeded to the point where there was almost nothing of value left in the hanger except the ships themselves. Krill had kept her A-wing intermittently maintained - she had a full rack of concussion missiles she'd brought out of Cracken's Flight Group but she'd have to replenish them on her own resources. The craft hadn't yet been painted in Wraith grays and still bore Cracken Flight Group markings. She didn't wait for a ladder, pulling herself up over the engines into the cockpit.

She looked over, and saw Crespin climbing in to his own cockpit in a less athletic fashion. "As it happens, I need a wingmate myself," he said. "I'll borrow you off Commander Antilles."

Krill evidently didn't manage to cover her dismay well enough, as he gave her a hard look and closed his cockpit. She was already halfway through startup. She hooked in her lead to the computers and grinned as she felt the purr of the engines underneath her. This was a ship she knew and loved very well. It was the same A-Wing she'd brought into Cracken's Flight Group, the same one she'd flown at Endor. Upgraded to Mark II, with other customizations, but still at heart the same ship. She didn't have kills painted on, though she did keep track - if she was accurate about it it would raise far too many questions. She remembered to call up the latest encryption update onto her ship, as she hadn't used it in some time.

"Com check," Crespin transmitted. "Wraith One, key into this frequency." He sent her the channel they'd be using to communicate as a wingpair.

"Blue Leader, I hear you. Signal normal."

"Thank you, Wraith One." Through the sensors of the starfigher, she felt the signal modulate up to the standard Rebel channel. "Confirm _Implacable_ and escorts oncoming by the most direct course. _Borleias_ , _Bright Nebula_ , are you ready to lift?"

There was a pause. Krill heard the deep buzz of another channel, but as it wasn't one she was listening to, she didn't bother to decrypt it.

Crespin came back on. " _Bright Nebula_ is ready. _Borleias_ needs more time. Blue Squadron, Wraith Squadron, we're going to have to buy them some. Any suggestions, Commander Antilles?"

"A straight shot has to bring them across the Pig Trough," Wedge said. "Let's calculate the likely interception point, hide there, send a few spotters up to confirm their arrival, and then pop up and chew up the Star Destroyer's TIEs as they pass over the trough. The spotters can hit them from behind." The Pig Trough was a vast canyon crossing the moon's surface that starfighters often practiced trench run tactics in.

"Wraith Leader, your plan is approved. I'll send two spotters, you send two. I'm also borrowing Lieutenant Vosa as my wing."

"Understood. Wraith Five, Wraith Six, you're spotters. Run along the Pig Trough to bypass any sensors they might have."

Kell and Runt acknowledged.

Crespin cleared his throat. "Blue Nine, Blue Ten, join them. We'll transmit your destination and most likely intercept point when we get them. All Blues, we are launching."

Krill hit her repulsors and gently eased her A-Wing through the launch tube and out. The frequency of her wingmate's transmissions shifted down to the Blue Squadron frequency after the two Blues replied. "Blue Squadron, we're assembling by the Wraiths," Crespin said. "Keep the main launch tunnel clear."

The transport _Bright Nebula_ silently raced towards the stars, flanked by its two A-Wing escorts. Many smaller craft were following in an intermittent stream: shuttles, mostly-repaired fighters, and anything with a hyperdrive. The shuttle _Narra_ hadn't launched yet. Tyria and the squadron mechanic were probably frantically packing anything they could find. They still had a little time.

"Wraith Squadron, Blue Squadron, here is our ambush location," Antilles said. "We'll be following the Pig Trough to maintain surprise." The ten remaining Wraiths started to activate their repulsorlifts, and began to fly low towards the Pig Trough’s entrance. The bulk of the moon was still between them and the Imperial Star Destroyer. Hopefully the ISD's sensors wouldn't be good enough to sense the trap until it was sprung.

"Blue Squadron, spread out, and take the turns at your own speed." Crespin said. A good order. It wasn't that A-Wings were less maneuverable than X-Wings - a common misunderstanding- but they were a lot harder to fly and less forgiving on pilots. The A-Wing trainees in Blue Squadron had a few weeks less flying time than the Wraiths, and Gold Squadron had even less than that. The base had graduated a fully trained squadron of Y-Wings only the week before, and the rest of the recruits were relatively raw.

Krill felt the hum of her engines, and judged their fitness after their long idleness. She pulsed them, effortlessly drifting to the back of the Wraith formation ahead of her. They were clearly trying to block the A-Wings coming from behind, not that any of them would admit that. She smiled, and looked for an opening. Both One and Two flights were incomplete, and there was a hole there that a bold pilot could exploit.

As she slipped past and through that hole on the first straightaway with some very tricky flying, she felt Wedge’s annoyance. "One, this isn’t a race."

She smiled, giving a mental _flick!_ to change her broadcast frequency. "Leader, my orders were at my own speed."

"Thirteen, Nine, deny Wraith One."

It was only an instant before Wes’s X-wing was in front of her, blocking her. Slightly above her flight path, which was still penned in by being amid the squadron, was Donos. She was trapped, or nearly so.  
No safe flying would get her through that formation.

She saw the lights of the A-wings behind her, catching up. But the X-wings were stringing out to travel the narrow twisting cavern, and she had to make a choice.

She kept with the Wraiths. Crespin was either distracted by the rest of his squadron or failing to call her on it, so she stood on wingtip and whipped around the first hairpin turn, insinuating herself between Falynn and Grinder by exploiting the Bothan’s tentative flying. The X-wings often gained ground in such terrain, but it was less treacherous flying than the streets of Muunlist, and Krill knew her ship very well indeed.

She heard a pattern of clicks indicating com-silence was ordered, and concentrated on flying, threading the bladelike craft through the gorge. At the next straightaway she slipped back to rejoin the Blues, but felt somewhat smug nonetheless. She suspected Wedge was more than a little annoyed with her, but no harm done.

Who are you showing off for, though? a little voice inside her head asked.

And then, suddenly, they were at the intercept.

"Blues, take the bombers!" Crespin barked. His engines burned brightly as he swung out of the crevasse at top acceleration, a ballsy move. The General clearly didn’t fear to lead from the front.

And then she slammed her repulsorlifts off the cavern wall and hurtled into the fray after him, spouting concussion missiles at the surprised TIE squadrons. Six squadrons total – four of fighters, one of bombers, and one of interceptors. Ugly, ugly odds. The survivability of this encounter for the Rebel…New Republic…whatever… pilots greatly depended on who they were up against. One way or another, that was 72 ships. And jokes about the skill of Imperials aside, the ships and the pilots were generally better than most Rebels cared to admit.

These pilots frankly weren’t very good, to Krill’s vast relief. The airless moon’s sky was criss-crossed with torpedo and missile trails, and the TIEs scattered despite the fact that a number of them didn’t have locks. They began to regroup in ragged swarm tactics, but the A-wings were above them now. Crespin had asked them to target the bombers, while the Wraiths were going after the interceptors. A short squadron of X-wings versus a full squadron of interceptors wasn’t a happy first blooding, even without nearly fifty TIE fighters also zooming around.

Well, maybe more like forty, after the A-wing’s ambush. There were a lot fewer eyeballs, and the TIE bombers had taken some hits. One of Krill’s concussion missiles had gutted a bomber, and some of its armed ordinance had exploded spectacularly, fratriciding a hapless escort TIE. Odds were slowly getting better, and none of the A-wings had been lost yet. She winced and corrected herself as she took in the sensor data - one had just lost a head-to-head with a TIE.

And then they were out of the wheeling fighters, seeing laser bursts score the moon and hurtle out into space. She nearly swerved back into the fray before she remembered that the General was her wingmate – and she didn’t have lead. Nor did she think he’d be inclined to give it to her. She swore quietly under her breath, a Tatooine curse that Falynn had taught her new and exciting contexts for.

Crespin finally hung a fast turn to try and go after the bombers again. She held back on lasers for now, trying to get missile locks on the wildly wheeling fighters as she curved around to follow. An A-Wing/TIE fighter collision made her swear again as she rode through it, managing to lace the unfortunate TIE’s equally-unfortunate wingman with her lasers – not quite a disabling shot, but close. It was a target-rich environment, but the targets weren’t all dumb. One interceptor broke Krill's missile lock and slid around to try and get behind Jesmin.

Odds were even now in the X-Wing/Interceptor showdown, but the Blues were suffering. It was getting hard to dodge laser fire, for both A-Wings and TIEs. She saw another TIE fighter flame out.

She heard angry and anguished chatter on Blue channel, and looked down at her sensors. At least two Blues were off the board, at a quick glance. All Wraiths were still flying, except the still-absent Runt and Kell.

Crespin’s target lost him and she was forced to swing wide to flank the General as he twisted to get another shot at the bombers. Fewer had died than needed to die for the base to have a chance – there were still nine out there, and they were starting to use their large magazines to some effect. An explosion rocked her ship, and then Crespin was yelling at her to get a pair of TIEs that had rolled in behind them both off him.

She hadn’t had to surrender lead to a wingmate in real combat for decades. Of course she was rusty. She gritted her teeth, fell back, and shot at them, focusing down on the pilots. A few quick bursts on one vaped the TIE, and his wingmate swung wildly away trying to escape a concussion missile. Her magazine was nearly depleted, but that was what it was for – fights like these.

She flicked up through the channels, and frowned as the computer deciphered one, nearly distracted enough by it to let a strafing TIE drop behind her and score her hull:

"Han, can’t you coax any more speed out of that pile of junk?"

Krill heard a rare laugh from Crespin on their channel. It wasn’t really the Rogues and Han Solo, of course. It had to be Kell and the scouts trying to draw off the Star Destroyer, except she hadn’t thought Kell was that clever. It probably wouldn’t work though, she thought.

Piggy’s synthesized voice came over her interlink. "…Seven, recommend you dive _now_. One, Seven’s pursuer will be in your sights… _now_." Krill frowned at Piggy’s attempts to coordinate the fight and nearly missed the promised shot, only winging a solar panel. The TIE kept flying, but Phanan looked to have shaken him.

The Star Destroyer was getting far too close for comfort. She glanced down at the scope again, There weren't any fighters on her tail, but her danger sense sparked and she barely rolled her craft enough to slide between the bolts of an X-wing quad burst from three dogfights over. "Four, watch where you're shooting!" she snapped.

The triangle-wedge of the ISD on her sensors start to vector and her mood improved. _Well done, Kell. That'll give us a little time._ The Wraith and Blue Squadron communications were blurring into each other. More Wraiths now, less Blues. Three A-wings were destroyed, and the pilot had only successfully managed to punch out in one case. The Wraiths’ shuttle was looking for an opportunity to get in, but while the Wraiths and Blues had pared the odds down, the firefight was still far too intense.

Red lasers hissed by Krill’s cockpit as Leader and Thirteen chased a trio of unfortunate TIE fighters past her. She swerved abruptly as a TIE Interceptor popped up behind her, dodging a stream of fire before she realized it wasn’t aimed at her. To starboard, green lasers stitched across two X-wings, and both were heavily scored, the lead with obvious engine damage. Donos!

Wedge's voice. "Nine, this is Leader, I’m coming around to…"

Krill cut acceleration and hit a side thruster, spinning the craft around. She was flying backwards now, and she hit repulsors to slow her down slightly and keep her off the ground. She started firing at the Interceptor, both lasers bracketing him. The pilot nearly escaped, but with the superior arc of fire her A-wing had she finally hulled him. "Got him!" Krill crowed, needing a few seconds to regain control. Crespin was growling at her by the time she regained position to scare a pair of TIEs off his tail.

Meanwhile, Donos was arcing away from the battle, his engine flaming. Jesmin tried to pace him, but she had also been hit, her shields looked to be at negligible strength, and she wasn’t maneuvering very well.

Piggy's voice came over the comm. "Nine, recommend you punch out _now_."

"I'm fine, Twelve, restarting." Donos said. His ballistic flight corrected, and he clawed his way towards the Narra with the skill of an expert pilot. "Mostly superficial." There was a pause as he apparently reassessed that. "No hyperdrive, but Shiner's okay."

"Nine, this is Leader. Break off and go to ground. Are you in shape to terrain-follow?"

"Leader, Nine…yes sir." Donos, through the distortion, didn’t sound too happy.

"Thirteen, look after Ten."

"Leader, this is Thirteen, got it." Wes slipped off Wedge's wing and sideslipped towards Jesmin, who tucked in behind him. Wedge flew on alone. The odds were less ugly now. The Interceptor she’d vaped had been the last of the squadron, astonishingly enough.

Donos made an impressive show of losing control, but Krill felt him pull up and slip into a canyon on the moon's surface a few tens of meters before he would have crashed, limping his way around the moon towards Commenor. Hopefully the Alliance would be able to pick him up from there once Implacable left.

Krill heard Janson transmitting. " _Borleias_ has launched, and is a few minutes from hyperspace." The last transport, the one they were dying to protect. Even as he spoke, Jesmin was already heading towards the Wraith jump point, her starfighter too damaged to keep fighting.

Crespin’s reaction was immediate. "Blue Squadron, Wraith Squadron, break and regroup. We'll reunite at Rendezvous One. Wraith One, you're still with me." She'd gotten nav data from Crespin before they'd launched, and they obviously didn't want to transmit where they were going while the _Implacable_ could be listening."

"Leader, Twelve, what about Eleven?" one of the Blues asked.

"Break and regroup," Crespin repeated curtly. "We need to get out of here."

Crespin, Krill, and five badly mauled A-Wings hurtled away from the battle. There was nothing left fast enough to chase them. Of the two scouts, Blue Ten had been vaporized by the Star Destroyer’s turbolasers, but Blue Nine was racing towards the squadron. Six survivors, out of twelve rookies. Krill shook her head.

They should be proud, though. Only five bombers were left, and less than half the TIE fighters. The Wraiths had vaped all the Interceptors with only one loss, and Donos might make it out yet.

The squadron slowed down so that Nine could slide into formation.

"Hyperspace on my mark," Crespin said. No congratulations, no condolences, just pure professionalism. "Three, two, one – mark."

The stars streaked into infinity.

***

It was eight hours past rendezvous at Doldrums, and there was still no sign of Wraith Squadron.

"The evacuation can’t wait any longer to move on, Lieutenant," Crespin had said. "All our refueling is done. _Borleias_ will stay, with half of Gold Squadron as escorts, because if Commander Antilles does straggle in, he’ll need immediate refueling. Blue squadron is in no shape for another battle, but I’m giving you the option to stay, if you want."

She didn’t even know their flight route, not being part of the hypernavigation exercise. Donos would know. But by the time Myn got off Commenor, if he got off Commenor, it’d be rather academic.

It was a long, lonely wait. All passengers and nonessential crew had been transferred off _Borleias_ to the other ships.

Her comlink beeped. "We have an X-wing on sensors, Lieutenant Vosa," the transport captain said. She had asked to be kept informed.

"Thank you, Captain, I’ll be right there."

Her spirits rose for a brief second before her mind caught up. _Just one?_

The shuttle hanger of the Borleias was already very crowded, but the battle-damaged X-wing in Wraith greys slid expertly into the small space that had been cleared for it.

The cockpit popped open, and a weary looking Myn Donos climbed out.

"Lieutenant Vosa," he said, scanning the hanger. "Where's everyone else?"

She hesitated. "They haven't come in yet."

A series of hard to read expressions crossed Donos' face. "What?" he asked.

"We haven't heard anything from them since they left Commenor."

Donos swore, his tone ugly and bitter. He leaned against his X-wing for support. "I left them to die," he said bleakly.

"We don't know they're dead," Krill objected. "They could have run into fuel problems. Maybe they headed to a closer Alliance world and we haven't heard back." She'd been thinking about this much too much... she hadn't slept since the hyperspace jump, and apparently Donos hadn't since before that. His R2 unit, Shiner, seemed to have jury-rigged his hyperdrive, but he must have barely made it to Doldrums.

"Or maybe Piggy's calculations were wrong. Or they ran into an Interdictor and are being tortured as we speak." Donos had a snarl on his face, and oozed self-hatred in the Force, but he said what Krill had also been thinking. "I should have been there with them. I should have been _better_. Get my ship fuelled up, I'm going to retrace their route."

Krill looked at him, and then his battered ship. "Calm down," she said. "You aren't helping anything."

"No," Donos muttered, "No, I'm not." His fists clenched.

Krill took a deep breath. "Let me talk to your astromech. I'll go out and search the systems they went to. You go sleep. That's an order." She discreetly waved a hand at him to reinforce that.

Donos grunted, not saluting, but left. Krill gave him a worried look, unsure if Myn's mind would be able to handle the loss of another squadron.

She looked up. "Shiner?"

The droid whistled at her.

"Let's get you out of there. I need your help."

An A-Wing didn't have an astromech, only a primitive nav computer that could store two jumps. With Shiner's assistance, Krill grimly calculated a jump from Doldrums to Xobome, the Wraiths' first stop.

Her little mission was _probably_ something she should get authorization for, but Krill was the ranking officer of what remained of Wraith Squadron and Crespin had left with the other transports. If Antilles was alive to chew her out for it later, she'd be happy.

"Okay, Shiner," she said. "I think we're good. Go take care of Myn until I get back." The cockpit of her A-wing closed over her head again.

" _Borleias_ , clearance for take-off from hanger two?"

"Negative, Lieutenant Vosa. I'm afraid we just received new orders from Fleet Command. We are to stay on station until further notice under comm silence."

"I...see..." she said, and felt like swearing herself.

***

 _His thumb pressed lightly into the socket of her left eye. Her good eye. She wanted to be brave, but she knew he could feel the spike of her fear. She could feel it too, and she hated herself for it._

 _"Do you want me to stop now?" he asked. He sounded utterly disinterested in her answer._

 _She swallowed. "That would be nice."_

 _She could feel his dark amusement._

 _"I'll take that last."_

 _He lashed out with the Force, and her right arm shattered. She choked back a scream by sheer force of will..._

Krill's comlink chimed, and she woke up, breathing heavily. She sat up off the floor of an unfurnished room by the hanger. The transport was just that, a cargo vessel, with little room to spare. Two meters over Donos was almost comatose, completely ignoring his own comlink.

She hadn't had that dream in years.

"Gold Squadron, Wraith Squadron, all pilots are to transfer their ships to Home One at this time."

 _Huh?_ Krill thought. What was Admiral Ackbar's command ship doing here? She answered her own question almost immediately. _Jesmin_. It was no secret Wraith Squadron's Mon Calamari was a blood relative of the famous Admiral.

Still, that shouldn't be enough to drag him out here by itself. Wedge Antilles, though, was a hero of the Rebellion and the New Republic, and one whose loss or capture would be a massive public relations blow. _Home One_ 's presence reassured her that everything that could be done was being done to find the missing Wraiths. Not that she expected otherwise.

"Donos!" she snapped, but he was unresponsive. She shook him awake. "Myn, you need to move your ship to _Home One_ "

He stared at her. "Why?"

That wasn't the answer she was expecting. "Uh, orders," she said.

Donos nodded slowly, still seeming out of it. "Is Shiner okay?"

 _What?_ "Yes. Yes, he's fine."

"I can't leave him behind. It's important." Myn's voice rose on his last statement, and then he unevenly climbed to his feet and went to find the refresher. Krill watched him, and decided that she needed to make sure Donos was sane enough to fly before leaving for _Home One_ herself.

***

After two days of stewing aboard _Home One_ , her patience had worn thin. Krill had sent her report up the chain of command, but nothing trickled back down.

She hadn't received a debriefing. It was getting increasingly hard to cover for Donos, who was rapidly approaching psychological collapse. After having two squadrons vanish in a handful of months, Krill didn't quite blame him.

But finally, something was happening. She'd been expecting a meeting with Admiral Ackbar ever since she sent the Wraith's last known itinerary to his desk, but now he'd requested their presence on his personal shuttle.

As she walked up the ramp, she glanced back at Myn. Krill felt underdressed in her flight suit, but at least she'd managed to get it washed in the two days she'd spent aboard _Home One_. Donos, well, hadn't... but Donos was fairly clearly on mental autopilot right now.

She saluted Ackbar, as did Myn. Admiral Ackbar returned the salute.

"So, lieutenants," Ackbar said, motioning them to two seats across the aisle from his with a wave of his flippered hand, "what were your experiences in this ah...Wraith Squadron...like?"

Krill frowned. "It was a good squadron, sir. It got what needed to be done, done." Behind her, Donos just shrugged, staring at the wall in front of him.

"What do you think of the pilots?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Krill asked.

"In your opinion, are there any problems with the mix of pilots Commander Antilles put together?"

"No, sir," Krill said, and wondered if the Admiral had expected another answer.

The Mon Calamari's barbels twitched. "Helpful. Thank you."

Krill nodded. She glanced out the window of the shuttle. They were emerging from _Home One_. "Where are we going, sir?"

"Commander Antilles has brought me a corvette, Lieutenant Vosa," Ackbar said slowly. "I'm here to take a look."


End file.
